The publishing industry is edgy these days about marginalized voices. Marginalized voices, according to IGI Global’s InfoScipedia, are groups or individuals who have been pushed to the edge of society and are not afforded active voice or place in community.

MARGINALIZED VOICES IN PUBLISHING

Basically, the publishing industry has systematically failed to give those individuals a seat of the table. Today’s hot topics are who gets to write the stories and whether the stories show marginalized groups in a bad light.

Having fought for civil rights during my working career, I strongly believe marginalized voices should be included. Imagine my surprise when one of my friends pointed out that, in all my mousecapades blogs, I had failed to give marginalized mice a voice—I failed to let them tell their side of the story.

MARGINALIZED VOICES OF THE MICE

So, with many mea culpas to the Muridae family, I will allow their spokes mouse, Artimus J. Higginbotham II, to give voice to this marginalized group.

“I am a small, but feisty field mouse with gray fur and white belly, about three inches in length. My beautiful tail is hairless. My wife, Philippa, sees me as gallant and a Casanova. I love her dearly. At night, we forage for food and make love in our nest. We are the proud parents of thirty babies so far this year.

“However, our growing family is under constant threat by these ogre-like monsters who walk on two legs, ravishing our homeland through climate change, shredding the grass, clearing trees, and building structures. Our homeland is shrinking, but we are powerless to do anything about it.

“Several weeks ago, I went searching for food for my loved ones. Finding nothing on the scorched earth, I ventured to the brute’s structure, exploring every nook and crevice. Finally, a way in—a large tube leading upward. At the end of the tube was a grate, which I was able to squeeze through, only to find myself on a cool, wooden floor.

“Anger mounted within me. The beasts lived in a cool palace while my family toiled in unfathomable heat caused by their carelessness. My foray found the fiends hoarded food, enough to feed generations of my loved ones.

“Bravely I slipped into the food storage area and partook of the bounty. Unfortunately, I became too cocky, self-assured. The monstrosity apparently became aware of my presence, setting a strange-looking device in the area. The aroma of peanut butter, one of my favorites, lured me in. I should have known better. Within seconds my body was battered by the device.

“Limping away, I sat numbly, just feet from the trap. While trying to get my bearings, the ogress approached, staring at the machine of death, taking no notice of me. Eventually she came towards me, scooping me up. Praying to my heavenly mouse God, I summoned all my energy and managed to jump from the scooper onto the floor, scurrying into a hole under the cabinets.

“Several hours later, my senses restored, I made my escape, running past the monster and down into the grate.

“That night, I relayed the horrors of my near escape to my wife and children. My daughter, Angelique, became indignant, saying she and her siblings would torment the giant by partaking of their bountiful stores. ‘Who gives them the right to think they can kick us off our native land? I’ll never stop fighting.’”